


Paranoia

by BananaNeko



Series: Words That Start With P [1]
Category: Vocaloid
Genre: A bit crazy, Don't Read This, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Random - Freeform, This Isn't Meant to Make Sense, Weird, Written by Fangirl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-26 08:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9874841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaNeko/pseuds/BananaNeko
Summary: ...Whatever the definition of a “fangirl” is.





	

‘Go away!’ the Author screams, spitting at him like a crazy cat. ‘This is all your fault. I had a life. I had friends. I was a better person before you came in and _fucked_ it all up! I was – I was –…!’

‘Why’re you blaming me for what you made me do?’ he retorts indignantly. ‘I’m only what you think I am to you. And don’t lie… your life was never that perfect. _You_ fucked it up yourself, not me.’

‘ _I know that!_ ’ she shrieks back at him. A sob leaks out. ‘And I can’t help it.’

‘Then why don’t you get help?’

‘Because you’re in here –’ her voice cracks as the tears threaten to rise again. The tears she’s so ashamed of, can’t even explain. ‘Because – all these years you’ve kept me awake day and night and day like a fucking zombie – you eat into my mind like a parasite feeding on my every thought – because you’re the only thing I did half right in my life – because you’ve moved in and live here and I don’t even remember who I was before _us_ anymore. They can’t cut you out with a knife… they can’t make me kill you. I can’t.’

‘And you love it,’ he says simply. ‘You want this, don’t you?’

‘Just shut up! Get out of my head – leave me alone!’ she whimpers. ‘Before I met you, I was…’

‘You’d go back there to make me go away?’ he asks in a quiet, calm voice.

‘Shut up – shut up – shut up!’

‘I don’t think you can, you know.’

‘…This is it,’ she snarls. ‘I don’t care. It’s over. I’m sick of this.’

She yanks off her headphones and hurls them away. It almost feels good, the instant before the device hits the floor with a painful crash.

And the room suddenly goes quiet, so quiet she can hear the analogue buzz of her desk lamp. His voice stops – and she’s alone, alone, alone in the empty world.

She slams her face into her pillow with a wail, trying to hold on like a frame of twigs while the room caves in on her.

She wants – she needs – she shouldn’t –

...

When the padded headphones hug her eardrums again, pulsing under her palms, he’s singing gently, washing away the pain, numbing the tears – “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay…” Like a soft, warm blanket on her chest.

She closes her eyes and drowns herself in the beat.

 


End file.
